


Demon Slayer

by Ma_Kir



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, Dominance, F/M, Fate/Stay Life Continuity, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Rough Sex, Service Submission, Sex, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 11:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17283323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ma_Kir/pseuds/Ma_Kir
Summary: After a long and hard mission, Emiya Shirou returns to his Residence to find Rider waiting for him, as sometimes she does. Sometimes, a hero needs a monster.Set in the same continuity as Fate/Stay Life.There is a Trigger Warning on this story. You have been warned.





	Demon Slayer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luna_wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_wolf/gifts).



> It has been a long time since I updated Fate/Stay Life. And for that, I truly apologize. A lot went down during these past couple of months: between the end of some of my relationships, my computer dying, my own inevitable exhaustion, and so many other projects with which I've turned my attention. 
> 
> But, to those of you still interested, I do plan to return to the mainline story. In fact, it is entirely possible that this piece might become a part of Fate/Stay Life as it is set in that world. I can't place it in order, right now, as other matters have to be attended. Yet it has been a while, and I thought it would be good to start off this New Year with a Lemony Bang. Literally. 
> 
> Happy New Year, my friends. It is good to be back, in more ways than one. :)

Rider hears the door to the Emiya Residence open, and slide shut. 

She already sensed his presence on the property, his aura singing of busy metals and blades. But now she can _smell_ him too. Somehow, Emiya Shirou has an even stronger scent of testosterone, combined with sweat, earth, and a coppery aftertaste with which Rider herself is all too acquainted. There is no one else with him. The members of his Alliance -- the Pentel warrior girls, Berzinsky and his magecraft-ridden form, Rum and his scent of old parchments, the swaggering young Sembren, and Caesarmund and his smell of butterflies along with the boy Forvedge and the green of his insect spirits whose sister Lord El-Melloi and the Three Families were still courting ... even that immensely annoying child Flat Escardos who always managed to get past any Bounded Field that Rin, Sakura, and lllya set up here and nearly got stabbed by her and Saber alike -- none of them are with him.   
  
This doesn't surprise Rider, but it pleases her. More often than not, Shirou as their teacher and leader would bring them here after their extended missions in some war-zone or another for some of his homecooked meals, serving as host with Sakura and Rin. But she knows they are all staying at the Edelfelt Mansion closest to the Church. Sakura and Rin had arranged that. They'd known that Shirou would be home soon. 

She sees him come into the kitchen. He looks like how he smells, and feels. His red hair is plastered to his forehead. His face, for all he probably attempted to shower at some remote facility, looks dirty. His military fatigues are far more worn, and patched. The deep bags under his eyes, his amber sclera faded with fatigue are evident to her. But when he sees her -- truly _sees_ her -- he drops his duffel bag. In fact, it's not so much that he drops it as it slides off his muscular shoulder, and falls with an audible thud onto the wooden floor. 

Rider stands, wearing her Mystic Eye Killers ... and nothing else. She walks towards him, moving slowly, taking her time. She lets him drink her in. Men have always been visual creatures, though she knows he can sense her own pheromones from her slickened sex emanating off her naked form. Rider knows the effect her body has on men -- and women, for that matter -- a tall, statuesque physique embodying the dreams turned to nightmares of humankind. She smirks when she looks up at his smudged face. She can't help it. After all this time, the boy -- no, the _man_ \-- in front of her regards her as if she is some kind of unearthly vision, some hallucination. Granted, she had entranced him with her Bounded Field once into thinking that Rin was seducing him when she required his essence to continue functioning without taxing Sakura's mana, or killing massive amounts of humans -- and they'd had a conversation about that long afterwards -- but they had also fucked a lot afterwards as well, especially after days like the ones from which he came back. 

"Sakura is staying at Rin's." Rider murmurs, sauntering up to him, smelling his blood moving elsewhere lower into his body. 

"I see." Shirou says, his voice hoarse, and deep from either shouting his commands in the battlefield, or the obvious lust taking over his brain. "And ..."

"Saber's staying with Rin for the night." Rider replies. "The children are also there. Sakura said it was going to be a sleepover." She presses herself against him, marveling at the fact that he's grown ... in more than a few ways since she first met him, and last saw him. She can already feel it through his pants. It had been a long time on the field, and none of the women in their Family had been with him. That's generally the nature of war, and Emiya Shirou is not like the ancient Achaian heroes who would take pleasure from their male companions, or ... female trophies of war: the latter of which endeared him to her far more than he could ever realize. 

Then, she kneels down. Shirou's eyes do not leave hers as she goes on her hands and knees. Rider moves forward, brushing her cheek against his crotch. "My Master told me that tonight," she explains, "you have Master's rights." 

She can feel him stiffening even more under the rough fabric of his pants. Rider has learned which buttons to push with the others. Sakura and her have their bond and know when they need to share each other's essence. Rin gets abrasive and frustrated and flustered, and struggles, but ultimately surrenders to her strength and ministrations. Shirou, usually, lets her take the lead with her Master under normal circumstances, following, and then eventually becoming more assertive as he satisfies Sakura's mystical hunger, and helps her deal with Rider's prana. Usually, even now, he is bashful about this. As though he doesn't deserve it. And, perhaps, he doesn't. He's not necessarily entitled to it. But Rider, and she suspects the others, _wants_ to do it: if only for that goofy grin to split across that grim, and tired stoic warrior's face afterwards. 

He regards her, and she can see his pupils dilating. Shirou is breathing hard with obvious arousal. There is nothing of the boy he once was, and still is, when he takes her lavender strands of hair in his calloused hands. She feels him caressing her hair, and the firm grip as he pulls her face towards his obvious bulge. It strains against the fabric, the only sword that he doesn't have to summon out of his Reality Marble. 

Rider closes her eyes and takes off her glasses, folding them neatly on the table. She draws on her prana and summons her visor. She knows he likes that, especially as his breathing becomes hitched for a few moments. And she likes it as well. It allows her to heighten her other senses: such as her already potent olfactory capacities, her perception of texture and touch, and the depth of sound. He radiates like a furnace from his groin as she unzips his pants, and his large, sweaty cock flops out. Rider can feel it glistening near her lips, his pubic hair moist with his member's pre-cum. Not only has he not had the opportunity for rutting in his time away, but she suspects he hasn't even masturbated particularly that much. Her hands reach into his pants, slipping them off, and she can feel his balls. They are large, swollen, and pulsating. _No_ , she smiles to herself, _the boy hasn't blown his load in a while._

She admits that this is part of the treat. 

His hand forces her to take the full length and girth of his manhood into her mouth. Rider begins sucking on him, moving her sinuous tongue around his delta, and his head. She arches her face so that he knows she is regarding him. Her lips smirk around his cock as his fingers grasp the back of her head. There is no preamble. No gentleness. Rider doesn't expect any, and she is glad. Shirou thrusts his cock into her mouth, down her throat. Months of battle, and pain, and frustration move him. Rider knows a human woman can handle some of this, but with her Shirou doesn't have to hold back. She swallows him all the way to the hilt, swirling the bristles of his scrotal sack with her tongue. She feels him moan, senses him pulsing and growing in her mouth. She takes her hands and massages his balls, holding them gently and firmly in a grasp that could crush diamonds if she felt so inclined. Ball sweat and pre-cum -- masculine and dark -- fill her nostrils, and her tongue as he mouth fucks her, and she sucks him harder, and deeper. 

"Rider I'm -- fuck --"

She growls, feeling his balls retreat as his shaft hardens, his head swells, and he explodes into her mouth. 

"Ughnnnn ..." Shirou grunts. "Oh fuck ... Rider ... fuuuuck ..."

"Mmm." Rider moans around his cock, swirling his semen in her mouth, swallowing surge after surge of Shirou's essence. "Mmmmm ..." Perhaps she will take him up on that sentiment later. Instead, his fingers clenched in her hair, she tastes him. Even now, after all this time, she experiences the flavour of Avalon's potent magic inside of him, tasting the after-taste of paradise in his blood, in his cum ...  
  
It fills her belly, burning white hot, and infusing her own essence. She takes her hand and begins touching her own sex. Shirou's cock is only half-hard in her mouth as she furiously works on her vaginal opening, stretching her labia over her clitoris. It doesn't take long as the white hot burning in her belly matches the ache in her pussy, both compounding each other, and making her tremble. Rider moans around Shirou's manhood, her pussy squeezing on what isn't there, contracting under her touch still soaked in some of Shirou's bodily fluids. 

She feels him withdraw from her mouth, slick with her saliva, and traces of post-ejaculate. But he is still not flaccid, just somewhat bent. Rider knows, like from the other times, that she hasn't gotten all of his cum yet. The battle must have been intense, the mission almost impossible. His quests often are. Rider knows that Rin can't particularly deal with Shirou in this state, at least not full on. Saber might, but she suspects the two of them make love or a variant of that dynamic as opposed to anything else. Sakura often enjoys taking the brunt of Shirou's post-battle aggression, possibly because a part of her likes pain and degradation, taking what hurt her and her hypersensitivity and owning it. And she also knows that Shirou often holds back, and will do so unless he is given permission. 

And she knows exactly how. They have done this before. It had been slow and gradual. Often, Sakura was with them when it happened. But sometimes Sakura couldn't always be home with her own magus duties, and those to the children, and the Family. Sometimes Saber and Rin were on a mission for Zelretch. And Sakura left specific instructions with regards to Shirou, whether or not the children were staying -- and if they were that was what Illya was for with her Castle. But Rider doesn't need to be told what to do. She recognizes another beast in heat when she sees one. She knows what to do.

She licks her lips, still tasting him. "I know what you want."  
  
Shirou nods, slowly. She can envision his hair being even more messy now and obscuring his eyes. Rider smiles. "Tell me what you want, boy."

His brow furrows. But she feels that his hands haven't left her hair. "You know what I want, Rider." He says, in a low voice, after a time.

Rider bends over. He lowers with her as she displays her sex in front of him, using the table to prop herself up. "Did you enjoy taking your tribute from me, boy?"

She moves her crotch over his semi-erection, feeling the warmth begin to rekindle in it ... though she knows it never leaves. It is always dormant. Always waiting. "Did you enjoy raping my mouth?"

There is a stillness, a tension of force behind her. Rider grins, not knowing if Shirou can see it, or particularly caring. "Did you like it when I was your supplicant? Your captive? Your trophy after a battle to slake your cock inside, Master?" She almost feels her Eyes glowing under their visor as his hardness grows against her pussy. She used to find this disgusting among men, among the warriors of her time, the ones she ended up consuming with her sisters. She also knows Shirou finds it abhorrent. That Angra Mainyu showed him all of its evils when he was just a boy. That he knew. They told each other these things, these secrets. They worked with them, toyed with them ... Played with them. Right now, in this place, in this time, she feels the filthy words leaking out into the open, finding the darkness inside of him, galvanizing them both. "Well, boy? Are you going to take what is yours?  
  
"Are you going to rape my cunt?"

There is an explosion of power behind her. Rider feels Shirou enter her, roughly. He feels her, his vein-covered cock harder than it was even before. He thrusts in her, hard and unforgiving, all the way to his base. His balls slap into her labia, stinging, tingling. He pins her down, plunging hard and deep into her pussy. Yes. Yes. She likes it when he's like this. It's true. She also likes to sample him when she seduces him, or shares him with her Master and lover, but this is a side of him she doesn't see often. It had been the first time he came back, and she teased him, and he took her against the wall. Luckily, he'd learned enough magecraft to fix the damage they made, but she knew he had a force inside of him. And it only egged her on. He apologized, at first, before it'd gone further, but it had been exactly what she had been looking for. She saw it. She saw how aggressive he could be with Sakura, and her. This ... this is what months of tension, and stress, and fury felt like. He is plunging it all into her. She is also reacting. Rider can feel herself pinching him almost, sucking him in. His hand grabs her hair and pulls her head back. It's as though he is _riding_ her now -- with a girdle -- and making her keep the pace up. His other hand grasps the front of her neck. He squeezes. Rider's mind becomes blank for few moments. Hard steely fingers. Like metal. Harpe ... She bears down, and cums on his cock.   
  
It's as though they are back in her Temple of Blood with its flashing red and black images as he takes her on her altar, dominating her, the only hero ... the only man whose blade she willingly let inside of her. She cums. Over and again. Surges of orgasm ripple through her debased, divine body: baptizing his conquering manhood with her essence and her blood-cursed and tainted blessing. She could destroy him anytime she wants, not that time when Poseidon took her against her will, or even the times she and her sisters played with the men that she turned to stone -- in other ways -- or tore apart, and devoured. He is taking her on her altar. Raping her. Her letting him rape her. Wanting him to rape her. The memories and sensations all blur together. Something opens up inside of Rider. It's growing, like a god's seed in her belly, and it fills and aches in her with hunger.

And when Shirou's skilled but calloused fingers stroke her clitoris, moving hard and fast, she shatters.   
  
And he ends in her as well, his visceral urgency reaching its inevitable peak. She doesn't know if he gets his stamina or shorter refractory periods from Avalon placed in him in his formative years. And right now, at this moment, she doesn't find that she cares. For a few moments, she loses her form and her tendrils fill him, his anus, his mouth, his cock inside of her ... both of them, all of them as this place they share together consumes them into final completion ...  
  
They are back at the table. Shirou is bent over her, pinning her, his weight somehow also sheltering her body as though trying to shield her against their mutual destruction. He is still inside of her, ebbing and flowing into her channels. She feels her teeth in his wrist, tasting his blood. She withdraws them. He encircles her with his arms, letting go of her mouth and clitoris. She feels the threads of her juices unsticking from his fingers in her outer sex. He holds her, and breathes her hair as she takes in the scent of his musk: finally sated.   
  
"Are you back now?" Rider says, her voice softer, her fingers stroking his toned arms around her.  
  
There is a pause. She can just see that goofy grin and its expression of utter relief. "Yes, Rider." He tells her.   
  
"Are you home, boy?" She murmurs. 

"Yes." He tells her, kissing the back of her neck. "I am." He buries his face in her hair. "I love you, Rider."

"I love you too, Shirou." She tells him, and means it, this part of her beloved Master, this part of herself, this man that saved them, this man that they saved.   
  
He withdraws from her slowly. Rider gets up, and goes onto her knees again. She takes off her visor, banishing it, and puts her Mystic Eye Killers back on. She looks up at him as she cleans off his sex -- mixed with his essence and her own -- with her mouth and tongue. He doesn't get hard again, though she knows she could make him do so. But they are both sated. A glow infuses Rider as she feels every inch the Servant. Shirou's fingers stroke her hair, and she feels the sentiment in them, saying in touch what they stated in words just a few moments ago. 

Rider suspects that Shirou and his "Emiya's Alliance" found more children ... or didn't find the ones that were indoctrinating them in that organization. Tonight felt like more than just months without release or even just the usual tense mission. She'd seen his haunted gaze before. Ordinarily, he would talk with Rin or Saber about it, even Sakura. All of them, really. She wonders if she can convince him to go on one of those missions, to perhaps sense something from one of the captives or captives and instructors that he might have missed. But right now, they have other concerns. Rider rises to her feet, and Shirou kisses her: their sharing their taste with each other. She leans into him, her soft and firm curves and muscles melding into his hard angles. She is glad she can be here for him when Sakura is not ... and just, in general. 

She is glad. Rider is glad that Shirou can be hard with her. Real. Even without words. Looking into his eyes, she can see her own reflection, the thing that myths said she abhorred though not for the reasons they ever mentioned. And, for a time, she can see a semblance of the maiden she was, and the woman she has now become. But the monster is still there. And just as a monster needs to be slain by a hero, sometimes a hero needs a monster to slay the one inside of them as well. 


End file.
